


Wranduin Week 2020

by Onity



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, Family Feels, First Meeting, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Shadowlands, Wranduin Week, Wranduin Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onity/pseuds/Onity
Summary: Day 1: Betrayal : The king hesitated, but then succumbed to whatever peril he fought in his mind. “Charm me.”Day 2: Arranged Marriage: “Father,” Anduin finally settled. “I want you to arrange my marriage.”Day 3: First Meeting: “My name is Tiffin.” She said. “Tiffin Wrynn.” Wrathion froze. “I’m told you’re looking for my son.”Day 4:Day 5:Day 6:Day 7:
Relationships: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	1. Betrayal : Charm Me

-....-

When the meeting ended, Anduin wasn’t crowded by the usual nobleman or spymaster at his end of the war table. No, it seemed this time most of the leaders and important parties included in the meeting had steered clear of the young king. 

Wrathion couldn’t blame them, Anduin looked awful. 

Anduin had bags under his eyes, and his stare was lifeless. His body language was not as perfectly formal as usual, in fact he leaned against the table the entire time, broadcasting just how absolutely exhausted he was. He made no move to leave immediately, instead resting his head on the table and sighing. 

Genn Greymane, Magni, Velen, and Jaina Proudmoore all left passing words as they left the room, wishing Anduin better health, better sleep. 

No one said anymore, in truth, because everyone in the room already knew why he seemed so weak and tired. The war with the Horde, the constant death, and now the invasion of an old god all but beat the king down into submission. With each new event, each genocide, each letter of remorse sent, Anduin seemed to lose his own life, wearing it away till it turned to dust in the wind. 

Everyone else had convinced themselves that as soon as N’zoth was killed, as soon as this tragedy was over, that Anduin Wyrnn would bounce back. He’d regain everything that made him him. His life, his energy, his smile. For a while, Anduin had convinced himself that too. 

Wrathion knew that this wasn’t so simple. 

The room grew cold in the emptiness. With the door closing, the only souls left in the room were he and the king. Wrathion stood at his end of the table, watching the king roll his head around on the table, grumbling about nonsense, trying to keep himself awake and focused enough to stand. 

Anduin lifted his head up, took a deep breath, and tried to sit back, tall against his chair. But, as soon as he made eye contact with the dragon, his figure slumped. He didn’t need to be formal anyway. Not in Wrathion’s presence.

“It’s almost like you could read my mind.” Anduin finally spoke, a weak smirk on his face. 

“I wanted to ask you how you were feeling, my king.” Wrathion said, walking around the table to stand closer to Anduin. “I’m glad to see you welcome my company.” 

“I think the answer is quite clear, don’t you think?” Anduin replied, his gaze following. 

Wrathion only frowned, the worry he felt clear by this action. Anduin looked away, feeling almost ashamed that he even let himself walk out of his bedroom like this. Wrathion could see the king’s emotions cycle through his face, as the king began to think about the meeting, and how he shouldn’t have come. 

“I brought you these.” 

Anduin looked back to Wrathion to watch the dragon reach into his own coat and pull out three small potion bottles. Wrathion placed them down on the war table in front of Anduin. Anduin looked at them, a bright green color.

“W-what are they?” Anduin asked, clearly hesitant. They looked like blight. Blight only made him think of death. 

“For your headaches.” Wrathion explained.

Anduin reached out for one, processing Wrathion’s words before uncorking the bottle and downing it. He placed the bottle back on the table, making a face at the taste of the potion. 

After, Anduin gave Wrathion a curious glance. “How’d you know I had headaches?”

“You mentioned nightmares last time we talked. N’zoths whispers, his visions, usually come with horrific migraines.” Wrathion answered. “I figured he wouldn’t spare you from the torture either.”

Anduin nodded his head slowly, whispering a soft thank you. He then took a deep breath, pulling his legs up into the chair and to his chest, leaning his head on his knees. 

The potion was fast acting, but It did nothing to slay his fears and depression. He looked nervous all of a sudden, and glanced at Wrathion before looking away, to the windows on the other side of the room.

“Wrathion, I have a question.”

Wrathion hummed, placing his hand gently on the king’s shoulder to let him know he was there. 

“You made a potion that calms the whispers, right?” Anduin asked, his voice on edge. “For Ebonhorn?”

Wrathion nodded.

“He wasn’t used to being away from Highmountain, which protected him from the whispers.” Wrathion explained. “Why do you ask?”

Anduin played with his hands to try to stop himself from backing out of this conversation.

“I...I uh, heard about it, from the champion. And I, um,” He felt unsure of the request. “I was wondering if I could take it?”

Wrathion froze. “Take...it?”

Anduin gulped and nodded with a rush. “The potion you made to block the whispers.”

“You....” Wrathion shook his head, coming to his senses “You can’t take it, my love. It was made for a full grown dragon, even a drop of it could kill you.” 

Anduin did not react well to that answer. 

“But you can make a new one, right? For a human? Right?” 

Wrathion felt something was terribly wrong, more so than just exhaustion and headaches.

“I...I would If I could, Anduin, but I need to focus on Nyo’lotha. It took me months to come up with one potion, I….I would need at least a month or two to rework the formula.” Wrathion moved his hand around, emphasizing his words, trying to come up with an answer they’d both be happy with. “I suppose I could, if I placed most of the work on the Blacktalon, then yes. I could get you something within a month.”

Anduin shook his head, almost a bit too violently, and as the king left the chair to stand, Wrathion realized just how much of a mess Anduin really was. He was violently shaking, and it was clear some form of panic attack was haunting the human. 

“Anduin, you must sit-” Wrathion tried to stop him, but Anduin refused to.

“I can’t do a month, I need it now!” Anduin struggled between demanding as king and begging as a desperate friend. His words twisted and torn between the two tones. “Wrathion, please!”

Anduin’s arms clutched Wrathion’s shoulders, his nails digging into the shoulder pads. His reddened blue eyes stared into his and Wrathion shuttered. 

“Anduin If I told you I could I would be lying to you.” Wrathion gently tried to push Anduin back, this time Anduin stepping back slightly. In doing so, he let go of Wrathion’s shoulders, but now held Wrathion’s hands, grasping them tightly, afraid he’d let go.

The king hesitated, but then succumbed to whatever peril he fought in his mind.

“Charm me.”

Wrathion’s eyes widened. 

“W-what?!” Wrathion growled, causing Anduin to flinch, letting go of Wrathion’s hands and retreating a few steps back to his chair. 

“Charm me!” Anduin replied, rocking in his chair, keeping his eyes on the dragon. “Manipulate me like Onyxia did to my father!”

Wrathion could hardly believe the request. The man had lost it completely. What had N’zoth done to him? Shown him? Told him??

“No!” Wrathion wouldn’t entertain the ridiculous idea. “What in Azeroth’s name has gotten into you?!”

“I can’t do this anymore!” Anduin broke, tears falling down his red eyes, his hands gripping his own hair and pulling. “Every single day, every single night, N’zoth torments me! I spend all my consciousness and unconsciousness in fear and self hatred!” 

“Anduin Llane Wrynn-”

“I’ve done nothing but fantasize about doing things that I wouldn’t be around to regret!” Anduin pleaded again, and each new thing he confessed to pulled dangerously at Wrathion’s heart. 

Anduin pointed to the large windows across the room.

“I’ve spent this entire meeting wanting to jump out of those. Wanting to end it.” Anduin, even now, looking outside, heard the voices egging him on. He wanted so desperately to go over now and just….step through...and-

“Anduin!” Wrathion grabbed Anduin’s shoulders and forced the king to look at him, away from the windows. “I could never do this to you! Not after all that has happened between our families. What would your people think? Your allies? I would be crucified!”

Anduin looked at him with both terror and betrayal. 

“You’d rather I just kill myself!?” He shouted, Wrathion watching the tears blur his vision. His words turned into a loud cry, and he sobbed, pushing Wrathion away to muffle his cries in his own arms. 

“I can find something else to help you, Anduin.” Wrathion reached out his hand to touch him again, but didn’t. “Please, just give me time.”

Wrathion stood there awkwardly, listening to the human’s crying. After a few minutes, the human quieted down, his eyes glaring back at the dragon.

His words were softer, but still broken.

“I think back to my father a lot. My mother’s death destroyed him, sent him into a depression that lasted years...and I sometimes wonder if Onyxia’s charm helped him continue to function, despite the manipulations.”

He sighed. 

“I’m losing this battle, Wrath.” He said, his eyes releasing their anger. “I can’t do this anymore. If you can’t help me...I…”

Anduin paused, and Wrathion waited for him to continue.

“...He’s awakened every fear i’ve ever had, and he...I...I don’t know why I deserve to live anymore. I don’t know what is true anymore. I...I can’t trust anyone.”

Anduin closed his eyes. 

“All I see is the thousands of ways in which everyone can and will betray me. Use me.” He said. “I look at you and all I think about is how you’ll leave me again. How you’ll betray me again.”

“Anduin, I-”

“You wouldn’t, I know. Or, I think I know. I don’t know.” Anduin looked back up at him. “I’m terrified of you. I’m afraid to be alone with you. My nightmares...they….you...I.”

“If you’re so afraid of me, then why-”

“I’m asking you with my last inch of sanity, Wrath.” Anduin pleaded again, his voice raising slightly, his panic returning. “He’s trying to tell me that you’d be worse than him, and If I let him continue to torment me another day i know I’ll give in.”

Wrathion was his last ditch effort. 

If Wrathion refused, Anduin would perish. 

“I’d rather you betray me again then to fall to N’zoth’s will.” 

Betray. Again.

Wrathion knew how much betraying him in Pandaria hurt Anduin, and he’d hoped to patch up their relationship. It seemed, at least for a while, to be working, and it went under his radar just how badly Anduin was still hurting. 

N’zoth tore open the wounds he’d worked on closing with Anduin, and made Anduin terrified of the idea that Wrathion was only here to betray him again. 

To use him and leave him again. 

N’zoth wanted Anduin to believe that N’zoth’s will was more forgiving and trusting than that of Wrathion’s. 

And the worst part, Wrathion thought, was that it was working. Anduin was believing N’zoth. 

Anduin was truly scared of him. 

And yet he still was asking to be charmed. 

“Fine.” Wrathion spoke, reaching for Anduin’s hands and holding them gently. “I will do this. For you, and only you.”

Anduin brought Wrathion’s hands to his face, placing them on his cheeks, feeling their warmth and inviting the powers from within.

“Thank you, Wrath.” Anduin breathed, looking up at the black dragon standing before him.

It felt wrong to have the high king like this, begging for a black dragon to invade his thoughts, to charm him. But as much as Wrathion didn't want to do this, he didn’t want to risk Anduin. Didn’t want to lose.

It was either he or N’zoth, and he wasn’t going to let Anduin fall into N’zoth’s shadows. 

“Deep breaths.” Wrathion told him, sweetly, rubbing Anduin’s cheek with his thumb, careful not to let his talons scratch his skin. 

Anduin did as told, his breathing slowing, his panic backing down.

Wrathion wanted to say something, ask him something, but he knew that the more he pushed the act off, the worse. So he did it.

His eyes glowed brighter, and he caught Anduin’s stare, holding it, hypnotizing him. Anduin’s eyes glowed red, like his, as the dragon let himself into the human’s mind. 

He could feel the fear inside him and it even made Wrathion afraid. But he wouldn’t let N’zoth swat him away.

When Wrathion had finished, protections placed within the human’s mind, he’d pull back his magics, Anduin’s eyes returning to normal.

“Anduin.” Wrathion instantly felt the human’s weight on him increase, his body leaning over in exhaustion. “How do you feel?”

Anduin began to say something, but yawned and then rested his head against Wrathion’s chest. Wrathion placed his arms around the human, gently giving him a hug, awaiting the man’s response. 

When none came, Wrath asked again.

“Anduin?”

But to his surprise, the king had fallen asleep. 

As sweet as Anduin looked, finally with some sort of peace in his head, Wrathion couldn’t help but think about how he would need to get him to bed now, so that no one would ever suspect something odd happened here. 

He gently leaned Anduin back into the chair he had, then turned to quickly seek out a guard to help in moving their rather exhausted king. 

-...-

When Anduin found consciousness again, he felt confused. 

It was quiet, though sunlight poured into the room around him as though it were afternoon. He could hear his breathing, and the movement of sheets on the bed when he shifted around to kick the rather heated blankets off. 

He could also hear the sound of a page turn, and the clearing of one’s throat. 

Anduin’s brain only picked up on that someone else was in the room, and being trained to respond to threats when alone, he was quick to call to the light and face the direction the sounds came from.

He had not expected Wrathion, just sitting in one of the chairs beside one of his many book cases, reading away. 

Wrathion placed the book aside, without even saving his place, and smiled to Anduin.

“You look much better.” He said. 

Anduin looked startled, the light he called to defend himself fading away as he deemed the dragon safe. When the surprise went away, it was clearly replaced with embarrassment. He wrapped himself in the blankets, still very unsure about anyone seeing him in his own bed, clothed or not.

“What are you doing here?” Anduin asked, glaring at Wrath.

“Do you remember anything?” Wrathion asked.

Anduin’s brows pushed together, confused, trying to think back on what got him here. What had he done the last time he was awake? His worry increased as he found his memory harder to reach into, as if mists covered it. 

Wrathion also seemed concerned, worried, by the king’s reaction.

But then Anduin cleared away the grogginess of his first well nap since, well, perhaps months, and remembered the war room, and the meeting, and the request he’d had for his dragon friend. 

“Oh,” Anduin gulped, realizing the request worked. “You did it.”

The look on Wrathion’s face dropped with a huge sigh of relief. How would he explain to Anduin what Anduin had asked of him if he couldn’t remember? How absolutely suspicious would that have sounded? And what if Anduin didn’t believe him? The mess that could have caused! He felt he needed to pray to the light for this one.

“As I said, you look much better.” Wrathion spoke again. 

Anduin smiled, leaving the blankets to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“I feel...better.” Anduin said, assessing his own condition. “Much better.”

“Do you feel anything off? Hear anything?” Wrathion continued to question. He had to know it worked for sure. 

Anduin shook his head. 

“I’m actually kind of surprised.” He said. 

“You didn’t think it would work?” Wrathion asked, concerned. He knew Anduin was afraid of betrayal, and he worried that Anduin still feared him. 

What if that fear wasn’t something caused by N’zoth? What if it really was a wound reopened by themselves? 

Anduin smiled, shaking his head. “No, that I would remember asking.”

Another feeling of relief. 

“I would hope you’d remember.” Wrathion said. “I wasn’t asked to tamper with your memories.”

Anduin hesitated, as if remembering something.

“I just...thought that part of being..charmed, or whatever you’d call it, would come with side effects. That I wouldn’t remember.” Anduin said. “I think I thought about this too heavily in relation to Onyxia’s charms.”

Wrathion stood from his chair, resting the book off his lap and onto where he sat, to turn back to Anduin.

“Oh, Anduin.” Wrathion said. “I do not blame you. But Onyxia played with your father’s memory to keep him from remembering. Had he any suspicion that this happened to him, Onyxia would not have lasted long.”

He walked up to Anduin, placing his hands on the king’s arms.

“I do not want to charm you. I do not want to cloud your memory, nor change who you are.” Wrathion continued. “I answer your call to see you happy once again.”

Anduin felt warm inside by Wrathion’s words, leaning against his touch, though unsatisfied. He instead took Wrathion’s hand, bringing it up to feel his touch on his cheek. 

“My powers linger in your head, and I can call them back as soon as you wish.” Wrathion continued, rubbing his thumb gently into Anduin’s skin, watching the king close his eyes to focus on the movement. “But they are not without weaknesses. If you feel the shadows return, hear N’zoth’s whispers again, you must return to me, so that I can re-empower your protections.” 

Anduin hummed, slightly nodding into Wrath’s hand. 

“Onyxia stayed by your father’s side so that she could hold onto control, but Lo’gosh felt his mind overcome these charms due to distance.” 

Anduin opened his eyes, looking up to Wrath. “But my...the noble half of my father, he began to remember things as well, to see through the barrier.”

Wrathion brought his other hand to Anduin’s other cheek, and gently brought the king’s face towards his.

“Sometimes there are personal powers that overcome outside tampering.” Wrathion smiled, “I suppose his love for you empowered him.”

Anduin smiled, ignoring the heat in his face, unsure if it was from himself or the hands of a dragon on him. The fabric on Wrath’s hands was soft and warm. 

“I will keep you updated.” Anduin finally said after silence, taking Wrathion’s hands and holding them with his own. “I’m sure I should let the others know I haven't fallen asleep on the job. Maybe I can address N’zoth’s efforts much more confidently now.”

“There is no need for that now, love.” Wrathion said, placing slight pressure on Anduin’s hands.

“Hm?” Anduin asked, confused. “I can’t simply ignore a war effort, and arn’t you supposed to be leading it?”

“All of your duties are covered for today.” Wrathion said. “I spoke to Greymane when he carried you to bed, dear. Unless there is something you need to know, you must rest your wounded head.”

Anduin froze slightly to the thought of Greymane carrying him to bed, and how embarrassing that was, but he supposed the wolf felt something as a grandfather to him now, so he could forget it. 

“But what about you?” Anduin asked Wrath. “Don’t you need to be at the Chamber of Heart?”

Wrathion rolled his eyes. “All the champions are doing now are sharpening their swords and I know Magni and Mother can handle them for a day or two.” 

“You are really this confident in them to leave the war effort for so long?” Anduin seemed unsure by Wrathion’s decisions. 

“Tell me, Anduin.” Wrathion smirked. “Is making sure that the leader of one of Azeroth’s biggest militaries is safe from N’zoth’s grasp NOT at all important to the war effort?”

Anduin shrugged. “I suppose you have a point. What do you plan to do as my therapist, then?”

Wrathion hummed, playing it off as if he were deep in thought, as if he hadn’t already a plan. 

“I could set you down on a chair and question you on your thought process for hours on end-”

“Ah, like those many years ago at Tong’s tavern?” Anduin smirked. 

“I do not remember that in the same light, my dear!” Wrathion frowned. 

Anduin laughed. “I wouldn’t mind that, as long as you pretend it’s a friendly conversation over a game of Jihui too.”

“I am insulted you seem so keen to remember it this way!” 

Anduin stood from the bed, patting Wrathion on the shoulder-

“Let’s jog my memory then, huh?”

-then turned to search in his closet for the game set.

-...-


	2. Arranged Marriage : Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wranduin Week Day 2 Theme: Arranged Marriage  
> Title: Heartbreak  
> Summary: “Father,” Anduin finally settled. “I want you to arrange my marriage.”

-...-

Varian didn’t know the true extent to his son’s heartbreak until a year after it happened.

It really had been a full year, huh? To the exact day too. Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago the infamous Garrosh Hellscream escaped his trial, with the aid of time travel and dragons, to be chased down by Horde and Alliance yet again. To a new world, a world that echoed another, but which harbored dangerous forces, ones that needed to be put to an end now, should they cross onto Azeroth and bring death along with them. 

Varian had forgotten the events that happened on Anduin’s side long ago, for remembering them made him angry. But now, now that he thought back on them, he could see them clearly. And this time, he did not feel as blindly angry as before. He felt sorrow for his son. Pitty on the friend who betrayed him. 

And, a part of this felt like his own fault. That had been his son’s first true friend, born out of political connections, just someone he enjoyed to spend time with. His first friend that, while debatable, was apparently about the same age mentally. Would Anduin have dealt with the loss better if Varian had made sure his son had other friends his own age to begin with? 

Would he not have fallen in love with the first person who fit the bill? 

Varian could see clearly now, looking back on the past, just how deeply in love his son had been with his one and only true friend. He cursed himself for being too distracted at the time to notice, and to miss the opportunity to give Anduin a talk about feelings beyond friendship. He and Jaina had warned him about Wrathion, but that was only really based on Wrathion’s heritage and rumors. Had he been Anduin, he wouldn’t have listened to those warning either. 

Varian found out about the heartbreak his son felt when they’d finally returned to Stormwind after the failed trial. His son refused to leave his own room, something completely out of character for him, even in times of emotional distress. He knew how important it was to keep appearances, always had, and yet even after being missing for what felt like a year, he refused to stand before the nobles, or even the people.

No walks through Stormwind, no joining the courts, no classes, no standing in the throne room, he didn’t even take his seat in the dining room for dinner. 

Varian gave Anduin the space he sought for no longer than a week before trying to get Anduin out of his cave. 

He started by talking to Anduin through the door, though Anduin’s voice was muffled and he couldn’t keep that up for longer then two days. The first time Varian went into his room, he was surprised by the state of it. Anduin’s books were scattered around the floor in piles, all of his book cases empty. It appeared like he was reorganizing them, but stopped half way, and Varian couldn’t tell what each pile meant or if it’s location was important. 

Anduin also stopped sleeping on his bed, rearranging the chairs, blankets, and pillows into a fort beside the bed, opposite of the door to the room. Inside the fort he had tea that the maid brought him, and more books. In fact, when Varian finally confronted him, he’d been sitting in the darkness of his fort, a small ball of light hovering over his shoulder to give off enough light to read, and an almost empty cup of tea at his side. 

Varian, wearing not his usually bulky plate armor but instead comfy cloth and leather, crawled his way under the blanket ceiling of the fort, and sat on the pillows facing Anduin. He said nothing at first, instead finding it difficult to sit under the fort, it way too small for his frame. Anduin looked up from his book, placing a bookmark on the page, noticing how the blankets shaped around his father. 

He smiled in amusement, and Varian figured that as a good sign. But his smile faded quickly as he placed his book aside. 

Varian watched Anduin pick up the tea cup, holding it tightly in his fingers as though it were full, wanting to hold onto the warmth that had left it already. Varian cleared his throat. 

“You..want to talk about it?” He asked. 

Almost as if on command, Anduin’s face changed, tears appearing, lifting his hand up from the cup to rub at his face with frustration. He fell to his emotions, and Varian felt lost at how to respond, how to comfort him, for it’d been a long time since Anduin openly cried before him. 

He reached out, to hold Anduin’s arm, but Anduin placed the cup down and sought out his father’s embrace, leaning his head onto Varian’s chest and sobbing. 

When he calmed enough to speak clearly, Anduin confessed everything. 

Anduin told him how he really felt. That he truly loved Wrathion. It wasn’t another crush, not like the many he’d had before. Wrathion was many firsts, including that of a best friend, one who wasn’t afraid to argue with him, call him out, like everyone else seemed to be. Wrathion challenged him, engaged him, and treated him more like a normal person then anyone else. 

Wrathion wasn’t perfect, he said to his father, but no one is, and Anduin enjoyed the idea of spending his life with someone like that instead of a yes-man nobel woman he assumed he’d probably end up with. Someone who provided their own views instead of just agreeing with anything you said, refusing to step over the made up boundaries of class and nobility. Varian thought back to his own relationship with Tiffin, and how she’d been just that to him. She fought him on many occasions to stand up for her own beliefs, and never once did she give up, even if she wasn’t being heard. 

Anduin knew he’d fallen hard, knew that the likelihood of ever being able to date Wrathion officially was a zero, but he liked to think that he could at least invite his friend to Stormwind and mend the damage of a relationship between Stormwind and the black dragonflight. It seemed something that Wrathion enjoyed the thought of too, having been so dedicated to fixing what his corrupted family broke. 

He claimed he’d be okay, happy too, as long as he could continue his friendship with Wrathion after leaving Pandaria. 

He said Wrathion seemed to agree. 

But that wasn’t what happened, and Varian knew this part of the story. He knew about the betrayal, but up until now he didn’t know why it caused Anduin to act so strange. 

Anduin fell in love, for the first time ever in his life, and was experiencing the low that came after the high.

The next day, after his confession, Anduin emerged from his room and began acting as crowned prince again. Varian falsely assumed that being able to talk about it helped Anduin recover, but the truth was that Anduin drowned his feelings, pretending they didn’t exist anymore, and that he was okay. 

He’d always been a good actor. Varian didn’t know the true extent to his son’s heartbreak until a year after it happened.

Almost a year after his confession. 

Anduin stood tall, smiled, and invested all of his time into growing as a person, and more importantly, as a prince. He resumed his studies, interacted with the city and people nearly every day, and strengthened his bonds with his political allies, and the noble class. He took a trip to Darnassus once and Ironforge twice, but otherwise kept himself walled up inside his city. 

He’d also hit a growth spurt, gained some height, but was still somewhat thin. His hair grew out, pushed behind his ears but not long enough to tie into a ponytail. The most annoying length of hair, Varian thought, because it could only be controlled by a headband. Anduin wore one sometimes, but the nobles complained that it looked informal, so he stopped wearing it outside of his room. Why they find Anduin struggling to keep his hair out of his face during court to be more acceptable he would never know, and he told Anduin that the headband was fine, but Anduin gave in to their nonsense. 

The world, despite the efforts in Draenor, seemed at peace, and even Varian found himself getting better sleep, drinking less. But things were not fixed, and a near year after their talk under the blanket fort, Anduin found his way into the seat before his father’s desk, in his office, nervously requesting to talk. 

“What’s wrong?” Varian asked first.

“I...was thinking..and I couldn’t remember…” Anduin looked around the room. “Why you decided against arranged marriage...for me.”

Caught a little off guard by the subject, Varian pushed aside the current paperwork he had out and cleared his throat. 

“I thought it was tradition.”

“Maybe a long time ago, but recently it’s more of a political move.” Varian began. “My father wasn’t in an arranged marriage, but it was something he put together for me to help save the Ellerian noble family from losing their noble status. Stormwind hadn’t lost a noble family in a hundred years and he thought the other families were taking advantage of them. He also hated the nobles and their...tendency to have kids at the same time as the crowned family, in hopes to wed into it down the road. You don’t get a chance if you don’t have an heir around the same age as the king’s heir.” 

Anduin sat there, listening intently, so Varian continued. 

“As much as it happens with every generation, I don’t think our house has ever been a fan.”

“Llane married a soldier, right?” Anduin asked. 

Varian nodded, thinking back to his mother, Taria. A tough warrior, much like himself. 

“My father set me up with the Ellerian family heir almost as soon as we were born, completely bypassing the entire courting process, and buying the Ellerian family many more years of noble status.” Varian said. “As much as I didn’t like Tiffin at the time, I was grateful I didn’t have to deal with courting nobles. I’ve always hated them.”

“What did mother think?”

“I....I think she resented me because of my father’s choice. She wanted freedom and hated the noble lifestyle.” Varian felt an ache in his heart. “But she made the best of her situation, and we did come to love each other, as you know.”

Anduin made a face, one Varian wasn’t too sure about. He looked conflicted, and Varian worried it was about him and his mother. 

“I decided against wedding you off because of the years of misery both your mother and I felt with this forced marriage.” Varian cut to the point. “An arranged marriage meant more than just having your partner picked out for you. It took away our ability to make complicated relationship decisions for ourselves. There...were people we would have liked to know better, but expectations deemed unworthy.” 

He expected Anduin to understand, but the teenager’s aura didn’t change. Something was off, Varian thought, but he wasn’t going to find out until Anduin told him what. 

“I can’t bare the idea of forcing you to suffer the same way we did. I want you to have those freedoms, even if they don't work out all the time.” Varian said. 

“But you and mom loved each other in the end? Wouldn’t that have been worth it?”

“Love was never guaranteed.” 

Anduin frowned, still conflicted. 

“I fear keeping you from making your own decisions could hold you back, Anduin.” Varian added. “Your strengths lay in other specialties that almost require it. Every king before you has been a warrior. I can’t control you in the same ways my father controlled me and expect you to succeed. I’ve learned that lesson by now.” 

This time, Varian waited for Anduin to respond. The kid shifted awkwardly, adjusting his hair, clearly upset over something. 

“Father,” Anduin finally settled. “I want you to arrange my marriage.” 

Varian almost didn’t process what he’d been told. After all he just said? What could possibly make Anduin want this? 

“You know me well, and I trust your judgment.” Anduin continued. 

And then, he realized, without needing to be told, why Anduin was asking this. He remembered the talk from a year ago. His son was still heartbroken. He’d not recovered at all. 

“Anduin, you have to overcome this, it’s been so long.” He pushed back.

Anduin frowned, sighing, and stood up from the chair he sat in. Was he leaving? Already?

“Please, Anduin, we must talk about this more.” Varian stood from his chair, ready to stop him.

Anduin snapped back, “There's nothing else to talk about, unless you have ideas.”

Varian frowned. “Anduin Llane Wrynn, you know that I love you, and I admit that I don’t always know what’s best for you, but you can’t just give up so easily.”

The look Anduin gave him almost made him shudder. 

“I. Haven’t.” Anduin’s voice flooded with heartbreak. His emotions were painfully obvious. “I’ve thought about this for far too long. I’ve tried, but I can’t bear the thought of even trying to love someone else.” 

“Anduin-”

“Each time I remember him, I miss him. I’m no longer angry anymore, I just want to know he’s okay, and didn’t end up like the bronze dragon who went with him.” Anduin continued, brushing over the fact he’d been reading the draenor reports behind Varian’s back. “I miss our talks, I miss his stupid arguments, I miss him!”

If Varian hadn’t known better, it would appear that Anduin was under some sort of spell, manipulated, but no. Black dragons didn’t charm people just to completely abandon them, not like this. This talk, this gushing, this sorrow, it was all Anduin and all of Anduin’s soft heart. 

Varian didn’t want to do this, but he found himself unable to continue fighting.

“Is this really want you want?”

“I do.”

Varian sat back in his chair, defeated. 

“Okay.”

Anduin’s face softened, but he still went to leave the room. 

“Thank you, father.”

-...-

Anduin waited a long time. 

He waited days. 

Weeks.

Months.

Years. 

Varian never said anything.

His father never announced anything. Not that he’d wedded off his son, not that he’d found a noble woman nor man to fit the bill. No formal announcement, no further conversations about it, no mentions of ideas of people, and not even a whisper to the nobles to discuss it. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Anduin sat at the late father’s office desk, shifting through the thousands of papers left behind, both mourning his death in the least helpful way possible, but also searching. 

Something. 

A single paper, a single note, anything that would show that his father had chosen someone, thought about someone, had taken his request seriously. 

Nothing. 

There was nothing. 

And Anduin, at the time, felt heartbroken again. 

He pushed the mountain of papers across the office floor, hitting his head on the wooden desk and sobbing. 

He was all alone. 

-...-

Years passed. 

War with the Legion, and with the Horde, and with N’zoth had forced Anduin into ignoring the heartbreak. 

But, as fate seemed to deem, he was not destine to be alone, nor was he destined to suffer a loveless marriage, as he sought. 

It was now, years after his talk with his father, and his request, that he was glad. He was thankful. Happy that his father hadn’t listened to him. 

He didn’t know why, couldn’t possibly think his father somehow knew the future, but he’d made the right choice in sticking to his guns and letting Anduin freedom of choice. 

Funny, how things worked out in the end. 

King Anduin stood beside his advisor, Wrathion, as the city of Stormwind celebrated the defeat and death of the old god N’zoth, and the official closing of the Fourth War. 

They stood in the city park, shortly after the official announcement, watching the plaza switch into party mode. And, while they celebrated peace, Anduin himself celebrated a more personal relief. 

Wrathion had survived, and returned, not just to slay N’zoth, but to stay by his side.

To mend the heart he broke. 

The last half year they spent dealing with N’zoth was also spent mending those wounds. Anduin had felt anger and sorrow with Wrathion’s sudden reappearance in the throne room with Magni, but now it felt like the greatest gift he’d ever been given. They’d patched up what they could in the times Wrathion came to visit and report on the war effort. And Anduin celebrated that.

Most surprisingly, to him at least, was that Stormwind’s people also seemed to celebrate Wrathion. 

He’d killed N’zoth, the very corruptor of his people, and the one who has been behind much of Stormwind’s trauma the last twenty years. 

Wrathion was doing a good job at fixing the broken relationship between the two kingdoms, that of Stormwind and the Black flight. 

“The people say that you’ve been lonely.” Wrathion smirked as he stood beside Anduin before the crowd in the Stormwind Park, the crowd celebrating and cheering and laughing and dancing. 

“They...wouldn’t be wrong.” Anduin turned to him, a weak smile.

“I don’t suppose you have any plans to deal with that?” Wrathion asked, elbowing Anduin’s side. 

Anduin laughed. “Unfortunately not at this moment.”

Wrathion looked out into the crowd of people, while Anduin looked to him, trying to read his face.

“You don’t happen to have any plans either, do you?” Anduin asked. 

“What makes you ask?” Wrathion side eyed him. 

“Oh, nothing.” Anduin looked away, leaning on the back of his feet. 

He almost flinched when he felt Wrathion’s hand wrap around his, the warmth radiating through the cloth gloves. 

“We could make a plan.” Wrathion said.

“Anything in mind?” Anduin grinned.

“Well,” Wrathion used his other hand to motion towards the people. “They seem to quite like me, I don’t think they’d mind me hanging around.”

“Are you asking me for something?”

“Perhaps.”

“You are going to need to be more clear with your request.”

Wrathion turned and held Anduin’s hands with his own, closely between their chests.

“I am not an expert on Human culture, you will need to forgive me, my king.” Wrathion began. “But I believe your room is quite cold.”

“My room?”

“Well, perhaps your bed, to be specific.”

Anduin held back laughter. “Quiet, or else you’ll be heard.”

“Oh, my dear Anduin, I don't think they’d mind. I think they’d be quite supportive actually.”

“Of a heater in my bed?”

“I could be more than a heater.”

“Again, you will need to be more clear.” Anduin felt his face grinning.

He knew what Wrathion was saying but he needed to hear it. 

Wanted Wrathion to say it.

Wanting him to mend the heart he broke. Once and for all. 

Wrathion playfully huffed, getting on his knee, an action Anduin, nor the crowd, saw coming.

“Anduin, will you allow me the privilege of your hand in marriage?”

Anduin froze, eyes widened, shocked at the request. They’d grown close again, and at times flirty, but they’d hardly even courted, nor talked about it. And maybe they should talk about it, but Anduin didn’t care. He’d wanted this so badly, daydreamed of this, and truly thought it couldn’t happen.

He glanced nervously at the people, who stared in awe, in wait for his answer, with...great positivity. 

“Prince Wrathion of the Black Flight,” Anduin spoke, his voice no longer quiet, but kingly. “Should I give you my hand, will you keep your honor to that of both me and my kingdom? To protect them as if they were your own, and to stay by my side in body and spirit?”

Wrathion rubbed his thumb against Anduin’s hand, gazed up at him with loving eyes.

“I accept all that the Kingdom of Stormwind expects of me, my love.”

Anduin felt tears in his eyes. 

“Then I give you my hand.”

The cheers of the crowd were loud, and it even made Anduin flinch. Wrathion stood tall, Anduin embracing him gleefully, laughing as he felt tears down his face. He felt so warm in Wrathion’s arms.

“Forgive me for not having a ring.” Wrathion whispered, himself almost breathless. 

“A kiss will do fine.” 

The two kissed, Anduin’s hands holding Wrathion’s face, Wrathion’s arms around Anduin’s waist, and still, the people of stormwind cheered on the proposal of marriage. 

Whatever his father deemed a worthy reason to put off an arranged marriage, Anduin couldn’t help but be relieved. 

His father knew him well, and Anduin trusted his judgment. 

-...-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2! On time! Let's hope I keep this up lol. <3 :D


	3. First Meeting: Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wranduin week 2020 Day 3: First Meeting: Threads
> 
> “My name is Tiffin.” She said. “Tiffin Wrynn.”
> 
> Wrathion froze. 
> 
> “I’m told you’re looking for my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Spoiler warning. Takes place after the initial Shadowlands intro questline. Breaks away from canon after that.

-...-

Wrathion wasn’t necessarily frightened by the concept that Anduin had been kidnapped. No, as far as he was aware, that was something normal in the life of a Wrynn. What he was frightened about was the fact that it’d been Sylvanas Windrunner who kidnapped him, and that he’d apparently been dragged into the Shadowlands. 

The literal afterlife. 

Like, where only dead people go.

And upon hearing the news, he could only process this event as something that required death. It felt like no one wanted to tell him the truth : Anduin Wrynn was dead, his soul taken by the rogue ex-warchief. Everyone who talked to him about it skirt around the fact that he’d been killed, and that felt insulting. Angering. Maddening. 

But, apparently, that wasn’t how it went, and Anduin Wrynn was alive, as far as witnesses claimed. 

Sylvanas had opened a hole into the sky, a connection between the living world and the realm of the dead, and how she did that Wrathion had no idea. She used it to transport living beings into a place they didn’t belong, and what for he also didn’t know. 

Wrathion was supposed to be focusing on removing the giant titan sword in Sithilus, as well as repairing the planet’s wounds that were still bleeding, but he found himself unable to focus on the job after finding out about Anduin’s situation. 

He’d not consulted Magni nor Mother when he left one morning, to seek out the portal between life and death, and to find Anduin Wrynn. 

Appearing at the Ice Crown, he was lucky to find a champion on their way to a place known as Oribos, and with a few pieces of gold the dragon could talk the champion into sneaking him along between realms. 

Upon appearing in the Shadowlands, Wrathion felt a great distress, distant, but painful. He reached into his belt’s cloth coin purse and pulled out the source of his misery. 

The blood gem. 

The gem he made of his own blood. He made many, and gave them to that of his Blacktalon to keep in touch. 

He’d also given one to Anduin. 

The blood gem only worked when you meant to use it, channeled your voice or feelings through it. Anduin was calling out for help, had the blood gem on his person when kidnapped, and though likely wouldn’t receive a reply, he used it anyway. 

Wrathion held the gem tightly in his hands, warming it up, trying to find a way to use it to guide him in the right direction to find Anduin. 

But Anduin’s end of the connection ended almost as soon as Wrathion tried to reply, and any way of following the sister gem was cut off. 

“Black Prince,” The champion pulled his attention back. “Are you okay?”

Wrathion nodded his head, placing the gem back inside his purse, adjusting himself. 

“Of course,” He said. “In fact, I was wondering how much you can tell me about this place.”

As the two walked around the floating city, the champion filled Wrathion in on all that has happened to this point. The champions themselves escaped the Maw, however Baine, Thrall, Jaina, and Anduin had not returned with them. The champion was now working on building up support from the different lands of Shadowlands, in hopes to return to the Maw to save the missing leaders. 

Wrathion gazed into the middle of Oribos, watching the souls of the newly dead filter in, and then directly into the pits of the Maw down below. At one point he’d stood too close, and Bolvar himself pulled the dragon back.

“It is too dangerous for you here.” The man of fire told him.

Wrathion looked back to see Bolvar, who regarded him with a worried look. 

“I know you wish to save him, but none of us are prepared to enter and return.” Bolvar told him. 

“Get more help” He said. “Help the champion in Bastion.” He said.  
Now, Wrathion has been following the champion around for what felt like forever, and for what?

The only thing they seemed to be getting was one or two better pieces of gear, and more trouble. None of the people of the Shadowlands seemed to know what the hell was going on, and the deeper he and the champion went, the longer it was going to take to find and rescue Anduin. 

Wrathion had eventually retired to one of the more peaceful little villas in Bastion, watching the champion hown in their new spells on a rather large metal...thing. 

Nothing ever changes with these guys. 

Year after year, despite literally murdering old gods and titans, the champions returned to their roots. Replaced some of the most powerful gear on Azeroth with...Bastion’s training gear. 

Wrathion supposed he should be using this time for preparing the champion, if the champion was his key into the Maw. 

Perhaps another legendary cloak?

Wrathion would need to find new threads and fabrics for it, and that was hoping he could find a few new perks to channel into it. Something that made it special, because the dragon was never going to make a mediocre cloak. He had to outshine an entirely new realm. 

One afternoon, Wrathion assumed, for day and night was not really a thing here, the champion walked into the small open sitting area that Wrathion rested in. Behind the champion was another kyrian, one without wings, but just as blue and white and gold as all the rest. 

“Black Prince,” The champion cleared their throat. “I’ve found someone who wishes to aid you.”

Wrathion, mostly paying attention to the mix matched threads and fabrics he was experimenting with, hardly gave the champion much of a look. 

“Well, they can start by getting longer rolls of fabric,” Wrathion then sighed, placed the needle he had down on the table he sat at, and turned towards the two. “I’ve noticed you don’t have Ashjira’kamas anymore.” 

The champion idled awkwardly, “Uh, I have it kept safe, my prince, in the case of further old god invasions.”

Wrathion’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, in your bank, getting dusty, I get it. It’s right next to the first one I made you too, isn’t it? I can hardly remember what it looked like, only that it had the most precious pandaren silks.”

“If you want them back-”

“Nonsense!” Wrathion shook his head, holding onto the needle again as if to continue his work. “As you said, you might need the remains of my kin sometime in the future.”

He waved the needle around in a circle as he spoke.

“Oh, the likes of auntie Onyxia, remember only as a piece of outdated armor in the bank of Azeroth’s champion.” He sarcastically sighed, oblivious to the kyrian’s flinch, pointing the needle to the champion. “If I hear that you’ve sold it to a trader, or light forbid you’ve disenchanted it-”

“No worries, my prince!” The champion stopped him. “Your work is in good hands.”

“And in the hands of no other.” Wrathion sent the champion a glare, but then nodded. 

“Anyway,” The champion stepped aside, motioning for the kyrian behind them to step forward. “I leave you two to speak. I am needed elsewhere. That is fine with you?”

The champion looked up to the kyrian, who nodded their head. 

“I am fine.” The kyrian said.

The champion bowed to both of them, then left. 

Wrathion looked the kyrian up and down, noting the more personal features, such as long hair, and a fair but slightly distressed face. Was that...a bit of fear? 

“And you are?” Wrathion asked, curious. Something about her seemed familiar. 

The kyrian stood tall, eyeing him as well. 

“My name is Tiffin.” She said. “Tiffin Wrynn.”

Wrathion froze. 

“I’m told you’re looking for my son.”

Wrathion hadn’t realized how long he stared at her until she spoke again, awkwardly, leaning on the ends of her feet. 

“I...I assumed you would know who I was-”

Wrathion shook his head.

“Forgive me, of course I do.” He said, standing up, placing his needle and work down. “It is an honor to meet you, Queen Wrynn.” 

“I am no queen here, please, just Tiffin.” Tiffin said. 

“And you are here to help me?” Wrathion asked, curious.

“The Maw Walker told me a few things, though I suspect not the entire truth.” Tiffin explained. “They said that you were a close friend of my son, who was lost somewhere here in the Shadowlands, alive.”

Tiffin looked worried. “We are all worried about the concept of living beings walking our realm, but I am admittedly more worried for the status of my son.” 

“As am I, which is why I’ve followed our champion here.” Wrathion said, then motioned to the seat on the other side of the small table he was sitting at. “Please, let us talk.”

“Of course.”

Tiffin walked to the chair, taking her seat as Wrathion retook his, his hands in his lap instead of messing with his fabric and threads and needles scattered over the table. 

“You are making a cloak?” Tiffin asked, looking at the scraps that had been sown together. 

“The champion doesn’t like me getting into their progress, not unless I have something to offer them. Gold, power, gear.” Wrathion spoke, clearly annoyed with his position. “Usually I am in need of their aid, and they come to me, however this time I feel more...like a lost puppy.” 

“Are they not helping you?” Tiffin asked. 

“I need them to get into the Maw. I’m told if I went now I wouldn’t last long.” Wrathion frowned. “I would try to earn the aid of the four kingdoms you have here in your realm, but I feel the champion is...easier to ally with. A blank slate. I do not think your Archon would like me.” 

“So,” Tiffin played with her thumbs, “You need to get into the Maw because my son is there.”

“Yes.” Wrathion said, knowing too that she felt the same fear he did. “Unfortunately.”

Tiffin frowned. “The Maw is known as a place that could never be escaped. The final resting place for the most evil of evil. I can’t think of any reason why my son would be there.”

“The story is complicated, Lady Tiffin.” Wrathion replied. “He was kidnapped, along with Jaina Proudmoore, Thrall, and Baine Bloodhoof.”

Tiffin’s eyes lit up to their names, she knew at least Jaina and Thrall, Wrathion figured. 

“The reasons are unclear, but….I know they are in pain.” Wrathion looked down at his work. 

Tiffin stewed in the information, thinking, and Wrathion let her do so. 

“How do you know my son?” Tiffin eventually asked, eyeing him again. “You said he’s your friend.”

It was unsaid, but her eyes held more than her words. Why did a black dragon care? What did a friend mean to him? 

“I...I was born in a complicated time. My flight was once known to be Azeroth’s protectors, yet recent events changed everything. Now the entire world expects me, a mere whelp, to be dangers and corrupted.” Wrathion explained. “And....I hate to say they’re fears were not unfounded. I made mistakes, but I am not corrupted.”

Tiffin held her face, waiting for him to continue. 

“Your son, Anduin, was the very first person to show me kindness, at least kindness I didn’t need to pay for. Was the first person to call me his friend. We spent quite a few months walled up in a tavern playing games and talking.” Wrathion continued, thinking back to old times in Tong’s tavern. He severely missed those times. 

“It is good to know he holds kindness in his heart.” Tiffin smiled. “How long ago was this?”

“He was fifteen, I was two.” Wrathion answered. “I believe it’s been five years since then.”

“It’s been twenty years already?” Tiffin questioned, almost slightly panicked. “Have I really been gone for so long?”

Wrathion was caught a little off guard. 

“I assumed that you’d know.” Wrathion said. “Do the dead not have the ability to...say, watch their loved ones?”

Tiffin shook her head. “No. Time does not feel the same either. I work for the Archon, but I’ve refused to ascend so that I can be here to welcome my family when they pass.” 

“Would you not be able to welcome them after being given wings?” Wrathion asked, calling back to bits of information he’d picked up on the process of ascending. 

“They want you to give up your mortal worries to do so. They require you to forget who you were in life.” Tiffin shook her head. “They want me to ascend, to carry souls into our realm, and I want to, but I can’t do so until I see my family again.”

“That feels wrong.” Wrathion could only say, the idea of giving up your mortal memories somewhat frightening to him. To what? Become a cookiecutter transporter to the dead? Okay, perhaps it was an important role in the cycle of life and death, but the idea was not at all appealing. 

“I was taken from my son too early.” Tiffin looked down at her own hands. “Instead of recovering from postpartum, I have suffered it for...twenty years.”

Tiffin pulled her hand from above the table to her lap, “Forgive me, they do not like hearing about things like this, and I’ve been holding onto these feelings for so long. I do not wish to dump them on you.”

“It seems there are more problems in the system of the Shadowlands beyond just a Maw Walker.” Wrathion replied. “I can only worry there are many more souls holding onto their burdens like you.”

“And,” Wrathion adds, “I am sorry for the fate that befell you.” 

“There is no need to apologize, I see you are not at all like your…’auntie Onyxia’.”

Wrathion cringed at the call back to his own words. But, he realized something strange about her words. 

“I thought you did not follow the events of Azeroth after your death.” Wrathion questioned. “But you clearly know who Onyxia refers to.” 

Tiffin’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t remembered, and suddenly looked aflame. 

“I knew of her treachery, that is why she killed me!” Tiffin growled. “I’d figured her out, I even knew her true name, but Varian was under her spell, he did not believe me.” 

“Really?” Wrathion asked, astonished. 

“She acted strangely around my son, as if she was pretending he was her own.” Tiffin was clearly angry. “I refused to let him out of my sight. I thought, somehow, that would protect me, while I tried to find a way to out her.” 

Tiffin’s anger suddenly vanished, replaced with sorrow. “I was far too afraid to think properly, to properly protect myself, and I think back on all the things I could have done differently.” 

“You were likely under her spell as well.” Wrathion said. 

“What happened to her?” Tiffin asked. 

“You will be pleased to know that your husband King Wrynn beheaded her and hung her head from the front gates of the city.” Wrathion waved his hand, smirking. “After..a rather long story, best left for another time, and for your son to better tell.” 

“A fate she deserved.” Tiffin looked unsure, and Wrathion suspected she wasn’t a fan of the beheaded head hanging as a decoration to her city. “You mentioned she was a cloak now?”

Wrathion chuckled. “I took her remains and fashioned them into a cloak for our dear champion, which is, again, now sitting away in Stormwind’s banks.”

Tiffin laughed. The idea that Katrana Prestor now sit as a dusty piece of cloth in the banks of the city she tried to conquer was hilarious to her. 

“And Varian, how is he?” Tiffin asked, moving the subject along. 

Wrathion hesitated, and she caught that immediately. She didn’t know of Varian’s death two years ago, which meant that Varian did not end up in Bastion to be alongside her. But then where did he go? 

“He was not sent to Bastion, was he?” Tiffin seemed to deflate. 

“He fell to the Burning Legion two years ago.” Wrathion hated to inform her.

“If what the champion spoke of earlier is correct, then the anima drought began around then.” Tiffin shook gently. “He could be in the Maw.” 

“It is not a guarantee.” Wrathion tried to spin it. “He could very well have ended up in Maldraxxus, Revendreth, or Ardenweald.” 

“Not Revendreth. The souls who go there are souls who are given a second chance before falling to the Maw.” Tiffin shook her head. “I do not see how he could end up in Maldraxxus or Ardenweald.”

“King Varian has...been through much since you passed.” Wrathion said, calling to his knowledge of the other two lands of the dead. “He embraced his warrior skills, was a gladiator at one point. Again, a story for another storyteller. I could see him within Maldraxxus’ ranks, though not the aesthetic.”

“A gladiator?”

Wrathion continued. “As for Ardenweald, I know that many claim that one of the wild gods had an interest in him. Goldrinn. I wouldn’t be surprised to find Goldrinn has brought him to the realm that wild gods favor.”

Tiffin frowned, saddened by the idea that they were not destined to meet again in the afterlife. That, again, the afterlife worked to distance people from the life they left behind, taking them apart from their friends and family. 

“But, as Anduin said himself, Varian was not the same hard headed stubborn warrior he was known to be in the last few years of his life, and I see no evidence of Goldrinn’s favor other than that of a nickname. I too would have thought Bastion to be his home, based on what Anduin said.” Wrathion added. “Apparently he’d mellowed out. Learned to trust.”

“I see.” Tiffin nodded.

Wrathion wished he could reassure her that her loved ones were fine, but he couldn’t. He too felt fear and dread and pain-

And pain?

Wrathion’s eyes widened as he realized the blood gem was channeling again. 

Tiffin watched as Wrathion quickly reached into his own purse on his belt, almost spilling its contents as he pulled out a small gem. He reached across the table, holding out the gem. Tiffin looked unsure. 

“Hold it.” Wrathion said, then realized how suspicious that sounded. “It’s a blood gem, made of my own. Anduin has one, and can use it to channel his emotions and thoughts into it. He’s using it now.”

Tiffin’s eyes widened, and she nodded quickly, taking the gem into her own hands. 

Wrathion saw her face change as she felt the same thing he had. The same pain, the same distress, the fear that Anduin felt. It felt almost like they could see him too, but the image was unclear. 

“H-How do I-?”

Wrathion wrapped Tiffin’s hands around the gem tightly, showing her. When he let go, Tiffin concentrated on the gem, and how her hands warmed it. 

After a minute, Tiffin looked up to Wrathion.

“It...it stopped.” She said, worried. 

“I believe he felt you.” Wrathion said. 

Tiffin looked down at the gem, sorrowful, and she handed it back to the dragon.

“Does he know? That it was me?” She asked. 

Wrathion gently squeezed the gem as he turned to place it back in his purse. 

“I can’t guarantee, but he knows it wasn’t me.” Wrathion answered. 

Tiffin almost looked like she could cry, and Wrathion couldn’t blame her. 

“I want to help you rescue him. What do I need to do to save him from his misery?” She asked, her voice slightly deeper. Serious. 

“There is nothing we can do until the champion has completed their work here.” Wrathion frowned. “But we can help the champion get through this quicker.”

“I see.” Tiffin was clearly upset, it seemed all they could do was sit here. Now she understood Wrathion’s rant. 

Instead of giving into silence, the kyrian changed the topic again.

“The gem. You said it was made from yourself?” She asked.

“Yes. As is the name, bloodgem. I do not make them freely.” He said. “I...lost touch with Anduin for a while. It was lonely without him. When I returned, I made sure to give him one.” 

“You come here risking your life for him, a mere human. What is a being who lives no longer than seventy years to a being that can live for tens of thousands?” Tiffin questioned. “You said he is your friend, but you do things most friends would not risk for one another.”

Wrathion was caught off guard. He looked at her unsure, and swore she smirked at him.

“Is it not normal to do these things for a friend?” Wrathion asked. 

“I think he is more than a friend to you.” Tiffin confessed. 

Wrathion frowned, looking away. 

No, he wasn’t. But that didn’t mean Wrathion didn’t want him to be. And so what if he did care for Anduin more than a normal friend would? 

“I am in no position to explore feelings.” Wrathion replied neutrally. 

“There are no kings in the realm of the dead. No expectations.” Tiffin replied. “Remember this.” 

Wrathion heard her loud and clear, and knew exactly what she meant. But...they could not stay here, and Anduin still had expectations to fill as long as he lived. 

Sure, maybe eventually, the two of them would meet in death properly, and could explore their feelings then, but that would be a long time from now. 

He heard Tiffin shift in her chair, and saw her looking and moving around his fabrics, curious. 

“So,” She cleared her throat. “You are in need of fabrics?” 

She looked up to him, “I can fetch you some.”

Wrathion leaned back on his chair, bringing his talon to his chin. 

“The late Queen Tiffin Wrynn, wife to King Varian and mother to King Anduin, running MY errands?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly. “I just can’t let that happen.”

Tiffin smiled. “Would pretending to be the Maw Walker make it acceptable? Do I need to ask for a reward? A shoulder pad?”

“Just one?” Wrathion chuckled. “Not that I have anything to give you.”

“Luckily for you, I am in need of nothing.” 

“Not gold?”

“Gold?” She laughed. “Why would I need gold?” 

“Perhaps we will work this out better as a team of two.” Wrathion said.

“Then let me show you the way to the fabrics you seek.” Tiffin offered. “I can give you a tour, assuming you hadn’t already had one.” 

“That would be lovely, Lady Tiffin.” Wrathion smiled. 

Tiffin stood from her chair, and Wrathion did as well. 

He turned to pack up his threads and fabrics, grabbing them and folding them and carefully remembering not to prick himself with the needle. He turned to place them into his backpack, knowing his belt purse was too small, and- 

Oh, that’s right. He’d given that to the champion too, because apparently they need a motivation to save the planet from an old god, and a backpack was just that. 

He huffed, awkwardly holding the fabrics and threads, shoving the needle into the folded pieces. He then turned to Tiffin, who was watching him with amusement. 

“Ready?” She asked. 

“Ready.” He nodded, and the two left the table and chairs they’d sat at. 

-...-

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done one of these "_____ week" events before, so here's to my first time! I have this big google doc of fic ideas and managed to pull a lot of old ideas for the themes of this week! Let me know what you think!! Thank you for reading! :D


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